“What’s all this?” he asked and waved his hand toward the stove.
“Breakfast. I usually don’t serve until six, but I figured no one would be sleeping late today. Sit down. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.” She held out her hand. “I’m Grace, by the way.”
“Grace,” he repeated, savoring the word. He offered his own hand and was surprised by the strength of her grip. “So how much do you know about us?” He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.
“Everything,” she murmured and shivered at the feel of his thumb making soft circles against the web of tender skin where thumb and finger met.
Her skin was soft and smooth, the nails trimmed short but polished and Canaan found himself imagining what those hands would feel like moving along his body and what that silky skin would feel like against his… He started and snatched his hand away, realizing that he had held hers far too long for a greeting. His erection strained to be released. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t some fledgling that got a hard-on every time he passed a pretty woman.
“Just let me splash some water on my face. I’ll be right back.”
Grace set a mug on the island with a spoon and napkin. She heard the toilet flush and the water in the sink turn on. She placed sugar, powdered creamer and a small pitcher of milk in front of the mug. When the water turned off, she poured his coffee, replenished her own and took the seat opposite.
When he returned, he seemed surprised by the service.
“I don’t know how you like it,” she said and pointed to the sugar.
“Anyway you care to give it,” he thought. Christ, he had to stop this. “Black is fine,” he said. He took a sip and surprised, took another. “This is really good. Special blend?”
She looked like she wanted to laugh. Why didn’t she? He wanted to hear her laugh.
“Yeah,” she said. “My special blend. It’s called ‘Clean Coffeemaker’.”
He smiled and nodded. “Got it. So, you’re responsible for the rest of this, too; the clean bathroom, washing, waxing…” He rolled his hand as if to say he knew there was more but wasn’t sure what.
“Pizza boxes, beer bottles, dirty laundry,” she finished for him. “Yes, but I didn’t do it alone. The boys helped.”
“The boys?”
And then she did laugh and it was like the chiming of bells inside of him, clean and pure. It was a real laugh, not a girlish giggle or a ladylike twitter or worse, yet, a behind the hand embarrassment. It was full and genuine and made him want to laugh with her and again his body betrayed him.
“Col and Dov. I think of them as ‘the boys’. I know I shouldn’t. They aren’t that much younger than I am. They’re great hulking eating machines that go out to fight demons.” She saw Canaan frown and ignored it. “They’re not boys, they’re men, but when they’re around the house, they remind me of a couple of Golden Retrievers, galumphing around, knocking things over, teasing and laughing until I want to scream and then they do or say something really sweet and I have this urge to reach up and ruffle their hair or scratch behind their ears if you want to continue the metaphor. They’re just like little boys.”
Canaan forgot that she shouldn’t know these things and rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it. When my sister called and said they wanted to come here I almost split a gut I was laughing so hard, until I realized she was serious. Now, I’m not so sure I’ve done any of us a favor taking them into my House. They might have been better off with someone else’s discipline. They might be a little more dedicated.”
“I don’t think you have to worry. According to them, they’ve still got growing to do and I suppose that means more than just height. And they are dedicated. I’ve seen it. But they can’t keep this up seven nights a week. They need a couple of nights to have some fun, blow off steam. Then maybe they won’t feel the need to mix business with pleasure.” She winced and thought, “Smart move, Grace, tell him some more about how this place should be run.” This was Canaan’s business, not hers.
“I know,” he said, not the least offended. “And now that I’m back and I know they can handle it without me, I’ll work out some sort of schedule. Give them some time off.”
The timer chimed and Grace bent to remove the muffins offering him the same delightful backside display. Dammit, he was enjoying this way too much. Like the twins, it was time for him to stop fooling around and get down to business. He needed to tell her that she couldn’t stay.
Grace emptied the muffins into a warm bowl and covered it with a towel. She took out another bowl and started cracking eggs as Canaan poured more coffee. She had been afraid of this meeting, had tried to prepare for it, never imagined she’d actually enjoy it. This little domestic scene; drinking coffee together, discussing the boys, talking while she fixed breakfast. It felt right. She’d been here less than a month, known Canaan for less than a day and yet she felt as if she belonged. And it didn’t hurt that this guy was sexy as hell either. Her heart beat a little faster. Maybe she wasn’t that different from everyone else.
“I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble last night.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“I meant to move my things to the Back Room, but I kept putting it off.”
“They should never have brought you here in the first place.”
“They didn’t know what else to do. You see…” and while she set out the plates and flatware, poured juice and arranged condiments, she told him everything; the party, the twins in the light, the demon and Alice. Everything except the buzzing in her head, ending with, “apparently, I can’t be thumped.”
Canaan choked, sputtering coffee onto the counter. What he thought was, “Oh you can be thumped, honey, and I’d love to be the guy to do it,” but what he said was, “Uh, that’s not the proper word for it. It’s ‘erase’. They couldn’t erase your memory. Thumping means something else entirely.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
She blushed, the rosy bloom spreading from her cheeks and down her neck to disappear beneath the low scoop of her tee. Where did it end?
Grace sputtered, “I’ll kill them,” then corrected herself, “I’ll turn them and then I’ll kill them.” But she didn’t look angry. She looked as if she was enjoying the joke.
“Felt that way a few times myself. But I don’t think that’s the only way you got played. I’ve never met a human whose mind couldn’t be erased.”
“Well, you’ve met one now.” She poured the eggs into the pan and began to stir.
Canaan walked over and ran his hand in front of her face. He didn’t touch her but she felt a tingle like an electric current in her head.
Grace smiled and shook her head. “Nope. I’m in the kitchen scrambling eggs, potatoes are in the oven along with the bacon and you take your coffee black.”
He frowned and placed his thumb at her forehead. This time she could feel the power surge, the pressure building and building and then it was gone.
She rubbed her forehead, muttered “That was creepy,” and looked up at Canaan. She wanted to run her hand lightly up his arm to play with that intriguing golden band. She gave herself a mental shake.
“Sorry, I still know what I was doing and who you are.” She scraped the eggs into a bowl and retrieved the potatoes and bacon from the oven. When all was arranged on the counter top, she took a plate and filled it. She turned back to Canaan.
“Butter, jam, or both?”
“Shit.” The poor man looked stunned.
She laughed. “That wasn’t an option. So, second choice. Butter, jam or both for your muffins.”
“What? Oh, butter please.”
She set the plate in front of him just as Col walked in. Dov wasn’t far behind.
“I don’t know how they do it,” she said looking up. “Food radar or something. The minute it’s ready, there they are.”
“Good waking, Grace. My lord.” Col bobbed his head at Canaan, then grabbed a plate from the stack and filled it to overflowing.
<
br /> Dov entered the kitchen with his hands on his hips. “Gracie, did I see you serve Canaan his breakfast? You never wait on us. You make us serve ourselves. And what’s with the no shirt?” He tapped his finger by Canaan’s plate. “You want to eat at Gracie’s table; you’ll wear a clean shirt and shoes, young man. We’re not heathens, ya know.” He rounded the island and gave Grace a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek and missed Canaan’s glare. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Perhaps it’s because he’s your Liege Lord and it’s his House and he’s welcome to do as he pleases. And you, Dov, had better learn to show some respect.” Uncle Otto stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest.
“Sorry, Uncle Otto.” Dov nodded to Canaan. “My lord.”
Otto looked to Grace. “I thought I might join you for meals, if that’s all right.”
Grace looked delighted. “Of course. Have you had your morning dose? No? That’s all right. Sit. I’ll get it for you. And Dov, before you fill your own plate, get one for Uncle Otto.”
Grace disappeared into the pantry and Dov obediently grabbed a second plate while Otto explained. “Grace and I had a long talk and she suggested that I take my blood in doses throughout the day instead of waiting for the thirst. It seems to be working.”
After heating it in the microwave for a few seconds, Grace passed a mug complete with straw across to Otto who sipped it appreciatively. “Heating is a nice touch. Thank you, sweetheart.”
Canaan looked around the room. Was everyone in love with this woman? What had she done while he was away? Col showing good manners, Dov accepting a reprimand without smart mouth, and Otto, who hadn’t bathed or shaved regularly in years was suddenly the man that Canaan had missed. He caught her from the corner of his eye watching him as she ran the tip of her tongue over full and inviting lips. His insides clenched and he gave his head a small shake. Otto had it right. This was his House and he’d do as he pleased. And no matter how lovely she was, the woman had to go. In the meantime, he’d start wearing a shirt to the table.
Chapter 12
Andi lit the last of the last of the candles, the scented jars she received from coworkers last Christmas. I baked twelve different kinds of very expensive cookies and all I got were these stupid jars. Hah! She didn’t care. They’d get theirs someday. The skinny bitches with their artificially whitened teeth and their permed and pouffed dyed hair, going to their fancy ass clubs and coming in the next day with their tales of hot men and hotter sex. Liars. They probably went home from the restaurant and spent the night consoling themselves with chocolate cake just like she did. The lucky bitches were blessed with high metabolisms, that’s all. Not like her own. They would probably all die from cancers caused by all the artificial enhancements she was sure they all indulged in. She hoped so. But she wanted Cynthia to go first. Dear Cynthia, not Cindy or even Cyndi with a little smiley face instead of the dot over the ‘i’. No. It’s Cyn-thi-a, the super bitch who got the assistant manager position that by rights should have been Andi’s. Cyn-thi-a, who never missed a day and always had that stupid ten thousand dollar - that her probably very wealthy parents paid for - smile plastered on her face. She probably slept her way into the job with Mr. Cappaletti; he of the smiling wife and four clever children. Andi saw how he smiled and nodded at Cynthia every time she came on shift. She knew.
Enough of this. She wasn’t going to let them ruin her evening. She’d checked the TV listings and out of two hundred and fifty channels, there wasn’t anything she wanted to watch or hadn’t seen before. It was a sign. It was time to try out the surprise she’d found taped to the underside of the couch she had bought at a yard sale two weeks ago.
That’s why she’d lit all the candles she owned, to set the mood. There were twenty three in all. She stood in the center admiring her work. Candles circled the room. They were everywhere, on the mantle, on the tables, even on the floor. The instructions she’d found in the internet didn’t say anything about candles, but her mother and the old crones in her coven always used them and Andi thought it was a nice touch, especially the ones in front of the big mirror that sat against the wall.
Andi smiled at her handiwork and brought out the Ouija board.
*****
Uncle Otto dried the last pot and handed it off to Grace to put away. The twins were off for a night on the town, Canaan was out on patrol and Otto had volunteered to help Grace clean up to free the others to go about their business. He hung his damp towel along the bar extending from the dishwasher and caught a glimpse of himself in the blacked out window over the sink. Not bad for a vampire. He felt better now than the day before he was turned and it was all due to the little whirlwind who had taken the house by storm.
He watched her now as she danced her way across the kitchen to the big band music playing on the radio. For a human woman, she was, he supposed, about average height, five six or seven, but against the massive figures of Canaan and the twins or even his own six foot but slighter frame, she seemed a fragile thing. He knew she wasn’t. He’d watched her work out in the gym, meeting the demanding paces the twins set for her. He’d even sparred with her a few times and he insisted on spotting for her when they were alone and she wanted to lift the heavier weights.
Her body was firm and ripe, full breasted with a small waist and a derriere that was a pure pleasure to watch. Her legs were lithe if not long and her dark hair with its white blonde streak flowed past her shoulders in an enticing cascade of soft curls, just begging to be touched. He admitted it, if only to himself. He was just a little in love with the minx and if he’d been a few hundred years younger, he just might have done something about it. As it was, he was grateful to have this bit of beauty in a life that had seemed so barren just a few weeks before.
Grace had no notion of her beauty or power. Of that he was sure. She teased and bullied the twins, but never flirted. For their part, they adored her, treating her as they might a favorite sister, tormenting and teasing certainly, but tempered with a loving devotion that never crossed those familial bounds.
Canaan was another story altogether. He had yet to issue a decision on her status in the house and treated her with a polite indifference when in the company of others. Still, when Dov or Col was particularly playful, a look would cross Canaan’s face that Otto might have described as jealous, though Canaan never spoke a word of protest. He’d also noted that glimmer of lust flaring in Canaan’s eyes as he admired the same attributes that brightened Otto’s nights. Yet he made no move. Strange indeed, since he’d never known Canaan to be reticent around females before. Otto knew the two spent time together in the kitchen before everyone else was up. Canaan’s used coffee mug was always in the same place, but he never saw Canaan until everyone else was settled. Why?
Around Canaan, Grace was a mystery as well. Open and bold with everyone else, with Canaan she was reserved, almost awkward at times. She would watch him through the lashes of her half closed eyes and twice now Otto had seen a definite blush creep up her cheeks. Something was brewing between these two.
“Uncle Otto?” Grace’s voice drew him from his musings. “I want to go out for a walk.”
“Do you think that’s a wise idea?”
“It is if you come with me. When was the last time you were out of this house?”
“It’s been a while.” He nodded ruefully. “About three years, I suppose. The last time ended badly and we thought it best if I remained confined.”
Grace didn’t ask for details. “But that was when the thirst ruled. You’re different now.”
“I believe I am.” The smell of human blood still excited his senses but not to the point of frenzy. Grace had cut her finger while snapping off a piece of plastic wrap the other morning. Everyone went on the alert. The smell was slightly intoxicating and his mouth had watered. Fresh blood was so much tastier than bagged, but he quietly excused himself and away from the sight and smell, his calm returned. He was indeed, different now.
“Please, Uncle Ot
to,” Grace begged. “We won’t go far. No one needs to know we went. I’m tired of being cooped up. I’d go myself in the morning, but I don’t know the neighborhood and I still don’t know how the outside latch works to get back in.”
“It’s not a neighborhood for a woman alone. Go put on a pair of jeans and one of those shirts with a hood. No sense drawing attention.”
Grace flew from the room. “Give me five minutes,” she called over her shoulder.
After their disastrous first meeting, Canaan had directed the boys to ready the room next to his for Grace’s use. Just as Canaan’s room was done in shades of brown, this room was done in blue with the same soft carpeting and heavily draped window. Her chair was upholstered in soft blue velvet. No leather in this room. The closet was smaller though that hardly mattered. Her meager wardrobe barely filled in a corner. The bathroom was smaller as well, not nearly as luxurious, but it was spotlessly clean and with its tub/shower combination and large vanity sink, larger than the one in her apartment. She wasn’t complaining. She thought it was a good omen that Canaan had given her any room at all. Buffy, on the other hand, seemed quite put out that the strange man had taken over their room and hissed whenever Canaan walked by.
Within her allotted five minutes, Grace was ready to go and after the initial shock at the contrast between the well built and finely detailed inside of the house and the neglected and dilapidated outside, she tucked her hand around Otto’s offered arm and they walked toward the park that Otto said lay just ahead.
Large Maple trees spread their limbs out over the street and sidewalks, their copious roots pushing up and over the crumbling cement. Most of the streetlights were out and very few windows were lit. Cigarettes, cans, and a multitude of wrappers littered the ground from curb to front doors. Grass was nonexistent and what shrubbery remained stood as skeletal reminders of the welcoming front gardens of long ago.
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